


Liability

by LemonsandRosemary



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events (TV), A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, F/F, Flashback, Pining looks good on Georgina don’t @ me, Secret Relationship, This is the first time I've tried writing angst so lmk what you think, Wedding, one sided pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-31 17:44:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21149678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LemonsandRosemary/pseuds/LemonsandRosemary
Summary: Georgina reflects on her relationship with Esmé as she leaves her wedding.I report pedophilesDon’t interact with my fics if you post/read ageplay or sexual content that features minors, even if they’re aged up





	Liability

Georgina Orwell glanced at her watch. It had barely gone midnight. She watched the second hand tick, each second seemed to take longer than the last. 

Standing outside in the frigid night air waiting for a taxi was not her favourite activity at the best of times. Her fingers gradually lost feeling as she picked at the buttons on the sleeves of her coat. She allowed the hard plastic to dig into the soft skin underneath her fingernail as she brushed her fingertip against the short fibres of the coat. She bit her lip as she felt a tear roll down her face.

The wedding had been beautiful, of course, as if a wedding organised by Esmé Squalor would be anything other than exquisite. She had to admit she had been skeptical when she received the invite, for more than one reason. Her primary reservation, however, was that Esmé had insisted on hosting the event in the depths of winter. She wouldn’t exactly call herself a traditionalist, but somehow the idea of sitting in an icy stately home, all body heat being expunged by the bricks and mortar surrounding her, didn’t appeal. However, true to what everyone said about the city’s sixth most important financial advisor, she had pulled it off. 

Tyres crunched on gravel and Georgina looked up. The taxi lights dancing in her vision, she strode toward the car door. Sliding herself into the cab, Georgina promptly opted to remove her glasses. Partially because the rapid temperature change had caused them to mist over and partially because she usually felt comforted when the street lights transformed into hazy orbs of light and she was relieved of the burden of seeing things with perfect clarity. 

The house originally belonged to a Duke of something, or a Lord, perhaps, Georgina had intentionally blacked out the majority of Esmé’s chatter about wedding planning over the last twelve months, but she had to admit, it was gorgeous. Arched windows observed her from the second floor while ivy consumed the left side of the building, looking skeletal and dead in the cold. She skirted a vast, glassy pond on her approach to the house. It didn’t seem particularly deep, if the foot high walls surrounding it were any indicator, but looking into its black depths, Georgina couldn’t shake the feeling that it was reflecting more than the obsidian sky. 

Georgina had resisted the urge to get mildly drunk before the ceremony, though she had seriously considered it. She had to admit, the concept of drinking to excess and ruining a former lover’s wedding was appealing, but she didn’t think she could stomach the embarrassment of the aftermath. Jealous cougar never did look good on her. 

Georgina felt a tap on her shoulder and wheeled around to be faced with Olaf. His eyes glinted over the top of thick plastic frames that lacked lenses.

She rolled her eyes, “What do you want?” 

Olaf raised his eyebrows and took a tone of mock offence, “I’m just saying hello to a dear friend, Georgina.” He snickered, “Not feeling particularly forthcoming today?” 

Georgina’s stomach sank. She and Esmé had never been particularly secretive about their relationship, insofar as two people tempestuously connected predominantly in bathrooms and cupboards, could be described as having a relationship. But it had never occurred to her that it may be public knowledge. She ignored his needling, choosing instead to steel her eyes on the building looming before her in the darkness. 

Georgina gazed out of the misty taxi window at haloed tail lights and begun to wonder exactly where it was her life had gone wrong. She wanted to pin the inception of whatever it was she had with Esmé as the choice that led things to spiral out of control, but she didn’t think she could. She recalled the first time she had kissed Esmé with a stark clarity she wished she could forget. A stolen moment with her hands tangled in blonde hair in the coat closet of a casino that housed the organisational headquarters of a European crime syndicate. She told herself it was the intense heat that came with evading capture. She told herself the same thing the second and third times, too. 

She couldn’t help but feel as though the house before her looked more like it was about to swallow her than about to invite her in to celebrate the marriage of two people she loved. _Well, one person_. Clouds hung low in the sky, threatening to rain, though Georgina was sure it wouldn’t. Esmé was not the kind of person who would stand for rain on her wedding day, even if she had to pay off God herself. 

Walking through the entrance, it hit her just how little involvement Jerome had clearly been allowed to have in the wedding planning. Not that she had necessarily expected any differently, but it bolstered her hope that perhaps this really was a marriage of convenience. Live fireflies in jars had been dotted on bookcases. Though Georgina wasn’t sure which species Esmé had managed to find that would consistently luminesce indoors, she didn’t doubt that if anyone could find one, it would be her. Swathes of ivory silk trailed from the ceiling, seeming to glow orange in the light of an immense open fireplace. Most of the guests had seemed to congregate around the fire, drinks in hand. Georgina overhead snippets of conversation - clearly from Jerome’s guests - wondering aloud what Esmé would look like and what she would be wearing. 

Georgina caught a glimpse of a figure on the edges or her vision, a glimmer of recognition took her a moment but, upon turning, it came. She toyed with the idea of ignoring her, but Georgina had to admit she had never been particularly taken with either side of the schism. 

“Kit.” She nodded curtly.

Kit’s hair trailed over one bare shoulder, Georgina noted the ruby tone of her dress matched her lipstick perfectly. She smiled, teeth gleaming, “I should have known Esmé would get married in the middle of the night.”

Georgina stole a glance at her watch, the invites had advised guests to arrive at ten for the ceremony, although it was pushing ten thirty. She sighed but couldn’t quite piece a sentence together to respond. Esmé had always been most herself in the pitch black breathing secrets Georgina still blushed when she thought about. 

Kit obliged, “Neither of them know I’m here.” It didn’t take Georgina much to understand that she was referring to her brothers. “But Esmé wanted me to come.”

It took Georgina a moment of suppressing wild jealousy to respond, “She doesn’t want me here.” The words tasted wrong in her mouth, but they were true. Kit paused and chose not to respond. Georgina looked upward and noted tarnished shields hanging above them. “The decor in here really is awful, isn’t it?” 

Kit breathed a laugh, “Did you expect anything less?” 

The ceremony itself had, of course, been stunning. But Georgina couldn’t shake the observation that Esmé had slightly under-designed every aspect. It didn’t take her beyond sitting on a bench near the back to figure that out. The arch at the front of the rows was pretty but it lacked the extensive fresh flowers Georgina knew Esmé could afford. The seats themselves were hard wood and expensive looking, but Esmé had chosen to have them a mid toned oak, rather than staining them deep walnut that would have complimented the rest of the decor. 

Georgina’s suspicions were confirmed when Esmé entered the room. Georgina felt a hot wave of anxiety, coupled with something more visceral, wash over her as she turned to look at her. Esmé was dressed in a suit of warm ivory, the colour carefully selected, Georgina was sure, over many painstaking hours in different, precise, increments of lighting. The hems of her trousers delicately skimmed matching designer heels, with soles of a deep, blood red. However it was Esmé’s jacket Georgina couldn’t take her eyes off. She had it artfully draped over her shoulders, allowing a lace tank top to expose her collarbones just the right amount. Georgina’s mouth went dry. 

She fixed her eyes on the floor and toyed with the ring on her right index finger, desperately trying to suppress whatever raging horror it was that she was feeling. Her peripheral vision told her Esmé was beginning to walk having, in classic Esmé fashion, ruled out having someone escort her down the aisle. _Always the centre of attention. At least she’s predictable_. Georgina bit the inside of her mouth and tried not to think about the underwear Esmé would almost certainly have forgone. She swore she felt the air shift around her as Esmé seemed to glide past her. Esmé didn’t so much as look at her. 

Georgina endured the ceremony in polite silence. She noted that Esmé had nixed the opportunity for guests to object. Not that she would have. _Probably not_. 

She filled out behind the other guests. Keeping toward the middle of the pack of babbling guests, she decided it was best to keep out of the way of too much attention. She told herself it wasn’t because she was avoiding Esmé. 

The reception was a relaxed affair, guests dispersed themselves throughout the country house, lovers winding themselves into hidden staircases, old friends pulling dusted books from shelves, and newly made enemies spent time circling the hall avoiding one another. 

Georgina ordered and drained a double whiskey and abandoned her glass on the closest bookshelf. She turned to leave and was faced with the glittering ebony irises of Esmé Squalor. She froze. 

“Georgina, hi.” Esmé bared her teeth and ran a hand through her perfectly styled hair. 

A string of obscenities ran through Georgina’s mind. She felt a gaping chasm crack down the middle of her chest. She wanted to scream and tear Esmé to shreds. The more dominant part of herself decided that quiet compliance was the preferable option. 

She fixed her gaze on the floor, “I was just leaving.” Alcohol tingled at the ends of her fingertips and warmed her through to the teeth.

“That’s probably for the best.” Esmé looked down at Georgina and placed a hand on her shoulder. Georgina felt talons burn into her clavicle.

Georgina couldn’t suppress herself, feeling anger rise in her throat, “Why did you invite me? If you wanted to humiliate me, you’ve succeeded.” The claws in her shoulder tightened, slicing into flesh.

Esmé flashed a brutal smile, “Oh Georgie, _darling_, I just wanted to really reinforce,” Esmé pulled Georgina forward by her shoulder and placed a finger under Georgina’s chin. Georgina felt Esmé’s breath heat her face, “that this was my choice. You were _my_ choice.” Esmé’s eyes flashed dangerously, and Georgina was suddenly glad they weren’t alone. “You were _mine_. And if this gets out. I will ruin you.” 

Georgina heard the cab engine sputter and stop. 

“Fifteen-fifty.” The cabbie said flatly from the front of the car. 

Georgina slid her glasses back onto her face and fished around in her coat before handing over a note, “Keep the change.” She murmured, already hauling herself out of the cab. 

The streetlights came into focus as her eyes adjusted to the lenses. Auras of fluorescent orange light beamed from above as her heels clicked toward her front door, almost of their own accord. Her keys scraped against the lock and the rusted hinges gave way. 

She wanted to pretend that she had expected it. Or that it hadn’t destroyed her. But it was all she could do to repress the dry, wracking sobs until she shut her front door behind her. 

Georgina wanted to pretend she had known this was imminent. Esmé was, after all, a heinous villain. But she couldn’t shake the sense that Esmé had been genuinely invested. She remembered sleep filled Saturday mornings making Esmé coffee and being handsomely rewarded for her efforts. Stolen kisses in cabs and opera house bathrooms that inevitably distracted her for the rest of their evening. 

The incident Georgina remembered most vividly, however, was an altercation with Olaf. She and Esmé had found themselves at the same bar, casting their eyes at each other from opposite sides of the room. She had almost convinced herself that her first encounter with Esmé had been singular. But following twinkling eyes across the bar, Georgina couldn’t help but feel a knot in her stomach that instructed her to drag the blonde into a dark corner and wear her lipstick. 

Georgina felt condensation from her glass drip onto her hand. In the time it took her to brush the droplet from her skin, a tall figure appeared before her, obscuring her view of the dim bar. 

She groaned, “What are you doing here?”

Olaf didn’t get the chance to irritate her with a response before Esmé swept across the room, coming to stand between them. 

“Olaf, sniff around somewhere else, _Georgie_ and I’” Georgina’s heart skipped a beat, “have some catching up to do.” 

And with that, Esmé took Georgina firmly by the hand, the warm gold of several rings pressing into her wrist, and pulled her toward the bathrooms, leaving Olaf stunned when Esmé emitted a sound akin to a giggle. 

Georgina, having collapsed into her plush couch with a tumbler of dry gin, couldn’t reconcile the memory with the fanged version of her former lover that she had been presented with mere hours ago. 

She knew that it was all rose-tinted glasses. She knew that dopamine was an incredibly strong conditioning agent. She knew that the black abyss of Esmé’s eyes had been more serious than ever. Despite considering herself a logical person, and having been faced with hoards of evidence that her feelings were ill advised, she had allowed herself to fall for Esmé Squalor. And, if the rational section of her brain was correct, the hangover she would face tomorrow would be about more than alcohol.

**Author's Note:**

> I actually wrote more!!
> 
> Hopefully this is decent, let me know what you think! Thanks for reading!


End file.
